Savior
by WanderingSoulsofDarkness
Summary: AU: Bucky's working for SHIELD as an agent trying to earn their trust. On a mission in New York hunting down Hydra agents, he befriends a young woman who is far more important than anyone could have realized. Now the question is: does he risk pissing off SHIELD to protect her, or can he find a way to save her and himself? (Bucky.x.OC) M for Language, violence/abuse, eventual smut
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is my first time doing an Avenger's story. Please keep that in mind! So, this is an Alternate Universe that takes place somewhat after Civil War, but with a different ending. Supposing that Iron Man hadn't ripped off his arm and Steve hadn't taken him to Wakanda. In this story, Bucky found a way to assimilate to being a part of SHIELD, working on cases to help earn him the respect he needs to eventually become an Avenger. This is obviously not in the same universe as Infinity War...**

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations.** _

* * *

Mila heard the familiar chime of the café door as it was opened, peeking her head out from behind the kitchen doorway as her favorite customer shuffled in and took his normal seat. She cracked a smile as fellow-waitress Candy finished loading up the plates for table number 3 before throwing her dirty blonde friend a curious grin.

"He's back, isn't he?"

Feigning innocence as she plainly shrugged, Mila's bright blue eyes shot up to meet Candy's. "Who?"

"Uh huh…" Candy tsked at her short friend, following her out of the kitchen and past the counter as she whispered playfully. "You'll never get him to talk, he's clearly defective!"

After setting down the full plates in front of the proper customers, Mila flashed them all a genuine smile as Candy asked if there was anything else she could get for them. Once the two were back in the kitchen, the short, chubby dirty-blonde turned to look up at her slender, latino co-worker.

"Candy, I appreciate your concern, but there is nothing to worry about." She peeked out at "Table Seven" again before turning back to her friend. "Even if he really was 'defective' like you say, that doesn't automatically make him a bad person. He just needs a friend."

With a hand at her hip and her head cocked to the side, Candice gave Mila a once over. They'd been working together for nearly five years now, and for some ungodly reason the pale shorty with icy eyes always made her mission to make every customer smile; even the ones who looked like homeless sociopaths.

"I'll be fine!" Mila grabbed a clean coffee mug and a freshly brewed carafe of coffee, practically skipping out of the kitchen and over to table seven. "Good morning, James!" She shifted as she leaned against the side of the table. "I suspect-"

"The usual." The two stated flatly in unison.

Gray-blue eyes flitted up from underneath of his red baseball cap, watching as the waitress quickly set a clean cup down and poured his coffee. After which she threw a nod back at the kitchen. She gently slid into the seat across from him and set the carafe in the middle of the table, folding her hands in front of her and smiling at him.

"You know, eating alone every day like this has actually been scientifically proven to be bad for mental health."

Bucky's brows pulled together as he raised his head just enough to see her from under the bill of his hat. "I like eating alone."

There was a small shrug of her shoulders as her smile only grew. "Oh, I know." She continued to keep her gaze locked on his for a few long seconds before she could see him getting uncomfortable.

"If you know that, why are you always trying to sit with me?" His voice was low and grumbling, which tended to scare normal people away, but for some reason this woman just never gave up.

"Because everyone needs a friend."

Her optimistic views on life and her constant giddiness was almost sickening, and yet Bucky found that his mornings had become somewhat brighter since he'd started coming to this particular café for breakfast.

"Besides," Mila brushed some untamed hair behind her ear before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "If you wanted to eat alone, why do you keep coming back here where you know I'm going to sit down with you?"

He paused for a split second before reaching for his coffee and dragging the cup towards him. He raised it up in a mock cheers before taking a few sips of it.

"Right…" Her voice playful. "The coffee. And the food, I suppose?" She earned a nod in response, to which she only chuckled. She heard her name from the kitchen, and Mila glanced over her shoulder as Candy raised her brows and beckoned her. "I'll be back."

Bucky watched her easily stand and glide across the café, his eyes narrowing slightly as he racked his brain for any reason at all that she might be so adamant about being his friend. And no matter how much he acted put-off and uninterested, she never failed to greet him with that obnoxious smile that he secretly found endearing.

Mila pushed through the kitchen doors and smiled, "What's up?"

"The defective's food is ready." Candy held the plate out, her painted-red lips moving up and down as she chewed a piece of gum and glanced back behind Mila. "I assume you're taking your break now?"

Gently taking the plate from Candy, Mila gave an appreciative nod. "You're the best!" She backed out of the kitchen, using her free hand to untie her apron and hang it up quickly before heading back to table 7. Just as she set the plate down in front of him, Mila started. "Everyone here calls you 'Table 7' as if they don't believe that your name is really James."

Bucky raised a brow as he salted his over-easy eggs and buttered his wheat toast. "Do you believe that's my name?"

With a sigh, she bit her lower lip and pondered for a moment before responding. "Yeah, but I don't think that's what you like to go by." The corner of her mouth pulled up in a teasing grin, but she knew he wouldn't give in to her.

"How's Nate?" Bucky asked before shoveling a bite of eggs and hash-browns into his mouth.

"Fine." Mila was surprised that he even remembered her boyfriend's name, but pleasantly because it meant that he listened to her. "We're going out tonight. In public. With other human beings. Something called 'a date.'"

Bucky paused mid bite to narrow his eyes. "I know what a date is." Even if this woman was the most annoying thing on the planet, he didn't have it in him to growl at her and scare her off like he did everyone else.

"Really?!" She chuckled as she leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "I'd love to know what you consider a date."

He was mid chew as she spewed out her backwards question, and although he'd gone on plenty of dates back in his early years, he had a hard time thinking about what constituted as a date nowadays. When he finished his bite, he shrugged lazily. "Dinner or something?"

Her smile broadened, reaching her eyes as she laughed quietly. She didn't know that Bucky loved the sound of her laughter, or that he did come back to this same café every morning for the same coffee and food just so that he could sit with her. She put the back of her hand to her mouth as she stifled her chuckles. "Dinner _or something_? That's the best that you can come up with?"

He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to eat, wondering why she always took her break with him but never actually ate anything. "It depends."

"On what?" Mila toyed, leaning closer to the table as she locked her eyes with him. There was long moment where the two of them just stared at each other, and she could see the pain and agony behind his eyes. Her smile faltered slightly, which he noticed and immediately dropped his head and set his fork down.

She watched as he picked up the coffee cup and finished what was left in it, and her gaze shifted to his left arm. It was always resting in his lap with his hand hidden under the table. Now that she thought about it, she'd never seen him use that hand. His arm worked, she could see it moving as he adjusted and shifted, but once he sat down it always went to the same place: hidden.

"It depends on the girl."

His voice drew her out of her thoughts, and Mila smiled gently. "Really?"

Bucky nodded, watching as she took the liberty to pour him another glass of coffee. "Thank you."

Mila felt her heart leap into her chest as he thanked her: that was new. She set the carafe down again and shook her head. "It's my job."

"It's not your job to be nice to me." His voice was darker than usual, and he glanced up at her from beneath his hat to watch as she shifted uncomfortably.

"No," she forced a smile and a nervous chuckle, "but everyone needs friends."

"How do you know I don't have friends?"

Mila sat up in her chair, folding her hands in her lap and twisting her fingers. "Do you?"

Steve's face flashed behind Bucky's eyes, and he thought about everyone else that worked for SHIELD. They could have just used him as a scapegoat and left him to rot in a prison cell for all eternity, but they hadn't. But that could have all been on Steve, it doesn't mean that SHIELD was happy about giving him a chance to prove himself. It doesn't mean that everyone else on the team actually gave two shits about Bucky... Were the others actually his friends?

"James?" His eyes moved to meet hers as Mila raised a brow at him. He'd drifted off somewhere for a few minutes there. She'd watched his eyes glaze over as he had wracked his brain for an answer. It broke her heart to think that he was that alone in the world.

"I have you…" He gestured towards her before taking his coffee cup again.

She felt herself smiling as a giggle escaped her lips. "You do. I won't be going anywhere any time soon."

"Mila!" Candy's voice rang out from the kitchen, and the dirty-blonde turned to see her friend pointing at the clock above the doorway.

"Right." Clapping her hands together she flashed James another smile. "I gotta get back to work. See you tomorrow."

Bucky watched her stand and disappear into the kitchen, noting how she had made her last remark and statement and not a question. He let out a soft chuckle before finishing his coffee and leaving some cash on the table.

As he stepped outside into the cool morning air, he adjusted his hat and stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving one last look into the café at Mila before heading down the street. It was time to work.

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That's it for Chapter 1! Please leave a review so I know what you think! *Much love*


	2. Chapter 2

There isn't a lot of Bucky in this chapter, but there will be plenty in the next! This is an introduction to Nate. Enjoy!

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations. **Abuse and reference to rape in this chapter****_

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The next few days went by uneventfully. Nate had cancelled on Mila last minute, but she was honestly so used to it that it didn't bother her much anymore. She spent her free time with Candy going on runs or working out at some all-female gym – while Mila was trying to lose weight and feel better about herself, Candy was just toning her already perfect body to entrap men and use them as she pleased.

The pair laughed together over a couple of glasses of wine as they sat outside La Maison Du Vin, a favorite wine bistro of theirs.

"Seriously, Mila…" Candy's voice softened as their laughter died down. "He ditched you. _Again_. Why don't you just tell him that you want to take a break?"

"Because- I-I just don't!" Mila sighed, although she kept a forced smile on her lips. She looked down at the honey-colored wine as she gently twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers. "I know you don't understand because you look like a super model and guys throw themselves at you all the time… But for people like me –average, short, chubby girls who can't lose weight if their life depends on it– we don't have the option of just breaking up with guys willy-nilly because they happened to have too many work functions going on to see us every night."

Candy pointed a perfectly manicured nail towards Mila, a scowl on her lips but a gentleness in her eyes. "That's bullshit. Just because you think that you aren't beautiful, doesn't mean that you wouldn't have guys trying to date you."

"Fine." Mila raised her glass, pausing at her lips. "Name one." She followed that by taking a rather large drink of her Reisling and raising a brow in challenge to Candy.

Pursing her lips, Candy raised her glass in thought before a light bulb clicked at the back of her mind. "James."

There was a brief pause before Mila scoffed. "Yeah right. First of all, he barely speaks to me; probably thinks I'm a psycho because I won't ever let him eat his breakfast in peace. Secondly, _you_ _said_ he's defective. Clearly he's seen some shit, probably been in the military or something which means he's got some sort of PTSD or something. And lastly, even if he is messed up, he's fucking hot. Like, H.O.T. hot. As in if he _was_ interested in women, it would be someone like you. He's a ten. You're a ten. Tens only date tens. Tens only sleep with tens. They don't even breathe the same fucking air as girls like me."

"Bull-fucking-shit!" Candy rolled her eyes as she slapped Mila's shoulder. "He might be a ten to you, but in my eyes tens actually know what a shower is!"

"Oh my God, he showers!" Mila's face flushed red as Candy waggled her eyebrows at her. "I mean, I'm the one who sits with him every morning, I can promise you he showers. Smells like some Old Spice shit. I kinda like it."

"Fine," Candy shrugged, "that red hat he always wears: deduct at least three points. That puts him at a seven."

"Rides a motorcycle." Mila raised her glass before taking another drink. "Add two points. Nine."

Candy's jaw twitched as she bit her lower lip and thought hard. "Always wears leather gloves, even when it's warm out-"

"Motorcyle! Have you ever ridden a motorcycle and tried to shift without gloves? It's hard. Callouses galore, my friend."

"Okay… No job, deduct a point."

"You don't know that he doesn't have a job-"

"And _you_ don't know that he does."

Mila bit the insides of her cheeks as she tapped her foot beneath the table. Candy grabbed their bottle of Reisling and topped off their glasses before pulling her glass to her own lips and taking a sip.

"Fine, I'll ask him tomorrow morning."

"Yeah?" Candy was grinning from ear to ear. "So, if he has a job –a legitimate job– then he's a nine. If he doesn't have a job, you have to admit that he's just a seven. And ask him out."

Her blue eyes widened as Mila laughed nervously. "No fucking way. He probably already thinks I'm a creep. I'm not going to-"

"Mila?"

She froze at the sound of the voice and stared at Candy as her green eyes scanned the man behind Mila.

Turning around, Mila smiled, stumbling to her feet. Nate eyed the table, running a hand through his blonde hair as he looked past her and gave a curt nod to Candy. She simply turned her head and pretended to be interested in her nails as she ignored the man completely.

"Hey, hun. What are you doing here?"

He gestured to the group of men that had come up behind him and walked around, heading into the bistro. "I'm here with some guys from work, for lunch. You didn't work today?" He gestured to the wine glass in her hand and the half-empty bottle on the table.

"I did, but it's a Thursday, so, ya know, not super busy. Earl let us off early since we're the highest paid workers he's got."

Nate's brown eyes scanned her figure, which only made Mila more self-conscious than she already was. "Don't you think you should be wearing something more fitting?"

Candy scoffed loudly. "Don't you think you should be less of a prick?"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Candice."

"Well lucky for me, I don't give a shit."

With a forced smile Mila gently pushed on Nate's chest, gesturing for him to head into the Bistro. "Don't want to miss your lunch, honey!"

He shrugged her hands off, locking his dark gaze on her. "I'm picking you up at eight tonight. Wear something more appropriate." With that said, he brushed past her and into the restaurant.

"Ugh!" Candy made a disgusted face as she sat up and looked over her shoulder at his disappearing form. "Seriously? Why the hell do you stay with him?!" She gestured to Mila's outfit: a simple white floral dress with a jean jacket over and some flats.

"It is a bit tight, Candy…"

"No." She waggled a stern finger at Mila. "It suits your curves. Fuck him, you look gorgeous. If I had tits and an ass like that, I'd be showing it off as much as possible."

Mila sank in her chair, throwing back her wine glass and finishing its contents in a matter of seconds. "If you had tits and an ass like this, you'd still look like a goddamned super model." The two laughed as Candy poured the remainder of their wine bottle into the glasses.

"Let's finish this quickly, before I go loca on his punk ass and show him what I think about his little bitch self."

"I love it when you get protective!"

"You're my best friend, my sister from another mister. Best believe that I'm going to have your back no matter what."

Mila smiled, glancing over Candy's shoulder and peering into the bistro. Nate was there at a table with the other men, acting as if nothing had happened.

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The buzzer on her apartment rang, and Mila hurriedly pulled the door open. "Hey, sorry babe. I was just getting changed."

Nate walked into the apartment, rolling his eyes. "I said I'd be here at eight, you should have gotten changed earlier."

"Well," Mila started as she scurried into her room and slid out of her dress, "maybe if you had given me more warning about tonight I wouldn't have already had plans, and therefore I would have had the extra time to change-"

"Are you done yet?" He called from the kitchen.

Mila paused in front of her full length mirror, wiggling into her skinny jeans before pulling her white shirt over her head. Wrapping her brown jacket around her shoulders, she stumbled out into the hallway with one boot on, hopping as she tried to pull the other one on as well.

"Heels?" Nate scoffed as he looked her over.

"What?" Mila looked down as she wiggled her foot into the boot, admiring the three inch thick heel that gave her just a little extra height.

"Heels are for hookers, Mila."

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him to grab her purse. "They're three inches, Nate. Seriously, I've seen women in your office wearing higher heels than this. I doubt you bitch at them for it."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him, voice lowering. "They're not my girlfriend. Now go back into the bedroom, and put something else on."

She shifted in his grasp, taking a slight step backwards. "No."

"Mila…" His grip on her tightened, but she didn't budge.

"I said… No." She freed her arm from his grasp and moved towards the door. Just as she had started to pull it open a force from behind closed it, then she was forcefully spun to face Nate. He grabbed her under the chin with one hand, the other slamming against the door and blocking her in.

"I'm not playing your fucking games tonight, Mila. Now do what I fucking say, or I'll drag you in there myself."

She looked up at him, her heart racing as his grip on her tightened. She could feel herself shaking internally, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid. Softly turning her head in defiance, Mila closed her eyes to push back her tears.

Nate growled and sent his fist into the door, releasing her before grabbing her shoulders and forcefully throwing her towards the living room. Mila caught herself on the wall, barely managing to find her footing before had her by the wrist and was dragging her into her bedroom.

She cried out in pain but he didn't notice before he pushed her into the side of her nightstand. Mila could feel the darkness looming over her as she watched him go into her closet and start picking up shoes. Her mind was telling her to get out but her body was frozen. She knew what would happen if she tried to run and he caught her.

Within seconds she had her arms up blocking her face from the barrage of shoes that were being thrown at her. Part of the reason that she only kept three pairs of small heels and mostly tennis shoes and flats: Nate liked to throw tantrums when she defied him. Once the shoes stopped hitting her, she lowered her arms and could already feel the burning from where he'd grabbed her.

"Why do you insist on pissing me off?!" He moved from the closet, making his way around the bed and towards her. Mila pulled back, running into the wall as he reached her and sent his hand across her face. "Why can't you just do as I ask?" He grabbed her under the chin again, forcing her to look at him.

She felt the hot tears pulling at the corners of her eyes as she raised one foot, slowly pulling her boot off and following with the other. She watched as the anger in his eyes slowly started to subside, replaced by a sadistic flare of triumph.

"On second thought, I don't think we should go out tonight…"

Mila's heart sank to her stomach as Nate took a small step back, keeping his grip on her jaw.

"Take it off." His voice was flat, stern, and unwavering. "Now."

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Drop a review and let me know what you think! Next chapter has Bucky, pinky promise!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Prepare for Bucky! Sorry he wasn't in the last chapter, but that was a one-time thing!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations.**_

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Mila was late for work the next morning, her entire body sore and her foundation nearly empty after covering up the bruises on her neck. Nate was normally careful about leaving marks, but last night he was on a whole new level of angry. Earl didn't give her any shit for being late, and she avoided Candy like the plague so as to not have to explain anything. As if it needed explaining. She wore a long sleeve white button-up with black pants that day. It was quite out of the ordinary from her normal short-sleeve tee-shirts and black knee-length skirts.

When the door to the café chimed at eight o'clock sharp, Mila didn't even bother looking out from the kitchen.

Candy moved to peer out, and a faint smile dusted her lips. "Hey sis," she gently touched Mila's shoulder as she made herself busy at the prep station, "Table 7 is here…"

"You take it. He's a good tipper."

Earl and Candy exchanged looks before the dark-haired beauty gave a short nod and headed out of the kitchen.

Mila continued with cutting up the different veggie options for their omelets when Candy reentered the kitchen.

"Mila, he's asking for you."

She paused in the midst of slicing a mushroom, glancing over at Candy. She had a hard time believing that James would have spoken enough words to ask for her specifically. Candy appeared beside her, a clean mug and fresh carafe in her hands.

"Go on. I'll put his order in."

Wiping her hands on her apron before taking the items from Candy, Mila headed for the double doors out into the café. She approached table seven quietly today, her heart in her throat as she set his mug down and filled it with coffee. Pausing once it was full, she glanced at James. He was watching her, eyes boring into her intensely from under that stupid red hat.

"Good morning." She set the carafe down and wiped her hands on her apron again. "The usual?"

Bucky knew from the minute that Candy came out to greet him that something was wrong. When she'd asked for his order, he'd looked back at the kitchen in bewilderment. "Is Mila not here?" The dark-haired woman shifted on her feet before nodding, turning and heading right back to the kitchen. And when his normal waitress finally did come out with his coffee mug and carafe, Bucky felt his insides turning.

He gave a slow nod to her, at which point Mila turned to head back into the kitchen. Bucky didn't know what came over him but he found himself standing and reaching for her wrist.

Mila cringed at the pain and quickly pulled her arm up to her chest, forcing a shaky smile as she tried to play it off. "I'm sorry, I just don't feel well today." She knew her voice was shaking even as she tried her damnedest to control it.

"You're sick?" He eyed the way she was protecting her wrist, noticing the over-sized long sleeve shirt that hid her form and the amount of liquid foundation that had rubbed off on the collar from her neck.

She nodded faintly, swallowing the hard lump in her throat as she tried to give him a small smile. "I-I didn't sleep well last night, either." A sudden wave of nausea overcame her, and Mila turned, hurriedly running into the back, through the kitchen and out into the alley behind the café. As a wave of the previous night's memories came flooding back to her, Mila wretched everything in her stomach into the back alley, one hand on her stomach and the other against the bricks of the café to keep her steady.

A warm hand found her back, gently rubbing in circles as another hand pulled back Mila's hair.

"It's okay, Mila." Candy's soft voice lulled the dirty-blonde into a sense of security, which only made her vomit more.

After her body had expelled everything in her stomach, Mila continued to dry heave for a few minutes until Candy had managed to get her sitting on the ground.

"Tuck your head between your knees and breathe, Mila. Big, slow, inhales… Good… Take your time…"

Her stomach slowly calmed, and Mila found herself softly sobbing with her head tucked between her knees.

A shadow moved behind Candy, and Mila lifted her head to be surprised by James kneeling down next to her. Her eyes scanned his features which had been hidden so long behind his ball cap. The red material was tucked into his back pocket as he reached out and wiped a few tears from her cheeks with his right hand. She'd thought he was a ten before, but not that she could see his features in the light she realized that his beauty was far beyond anything that could be registered on a lousy scale of 1-10. Even Candy was caught staring at him, only tearing her gaze away when his eyes flitted over to her for a split second.

"Come on," he extended both of his hands to Mila, his left still wearing the black leather glove, "let me take you home?"

Mila shook her head, reaching under her to pull her skirt up and shield herself from being exposed. "I can't."

"Mila," Candy started, "it's okay… I'll call in one of the other girls. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

Her head dropped again as Mila turned away from them. "I can't go home…"

Bucky felt his heart breaking as he glanced at the other waitress, who had to turn her head away to hide her own tears. He extended his hands even further and did his best to manage a soft voice.

"Where can I take you?"

"My house." Candy wipes her cheeks for a moment before nodding at Bucky. "She has a key to my house, she can stay there. I'll be home as soon as I get off tonight."

Bucky nodded, watching as Mila slowly processed their words. She finally took his hands and he guided her to her feet, not wanting to let go even after she was steadied. "Are you comfortable riding a motorcycle?" She nodded and he turned to give Candy a reassuring nod.

After guiding Mila to his motorcycle and helping her strap on a helmet, he climbed atop the bike and helped her on behind him. "You'll have to put your arms around me here," he guided her arms around his waist, "and keep your knees and legs in, okay?" He felt the bike shift as she settled in behind him, her legs tightly pressed against his outer thighs and her hands clutching at his chest. "It'll be loud, but don't be afraid." He looked over his shoulder at her, "I won't let anything happen to you."

It was Mila's first time on a motorcycle, and it brought a smile to her face. She felt free, wild, and strangely safe as the two of them weaved in and out of traffic. She guided him where he needed to go, heading out of the main city and onto some of the suburban backroads. He pulled the bike to a stop in front of Candy's house, instruction Mila to get off the bike slowly.

Once he was off he unbuckled the helmet and used his free hand to fix some of her hair. He hated how quiet she was, and as much as he wanted to know why Bucky wasn't sure he could handle the truth.

"You have a key, right?"

Mila was a bit startled as she rummaged through her purse, finding the spare key at the very bottom. She held it up and smiled meekly.

"Good." Bucky glanced at the house behind her, readying to put the helmet on himself. "I'll stay here to make sure you get inside safely-"

"You're not staying?" Her voice came out broken, and the wave of fear that washed over her features ignited a flame deep within Bucky's core.

He struggled for a few long seconds to find his words, running his gloved hand through his hair. "I-I, uh, I didn't think that you'd… want… me to?"

Mila nodded, fingernails picking at the metal of the key in her hands. "I don't want to be alone. Would you mind? Just until Candy gets home?" She took a small step back across the sidewalk towards the front lawn, urging him to follow.

Bucky felt his nerves going haywire as he nodded, nervously forcing out a "sure" before following her up the lawn and to the front door.

It was a two-story house with a large front porch and a heavy glass front door. As they entered over the threshold, Bucky took in the interior of the home. All wooden floors in the main entryway, a living room to the right, dining room to the left, stairs in the middle. Mila moved through the entryway and towards the stairs, pausing after she took the first three.

"I'm going to change." She turned just enough to look back at the man who seemed frozen. "The kitchen is through the dining room at the back of the house, I'll be down in a few minutes." Not waiting for his response she hurried up the stairs and into the spare bedroom where Candy graciously let her keep some clothes. After dropping her purse by the door and stripping off her works clothes, Mila slid on a pair of long black yoga pants and an over-sized long-sleeve shirt. She moved into the bathroom, brushing her teeth first then taking her hair down from its messy bun and combing out the knots. Examining herself one last time in the mirror, Mila scurried down the stairs and into the dining room.

Bucky was sitting quietly in one of the tall stools at the center island in the kitchen, admiring the modern décor as Mila walked quietly from the wooden floors to the tiles in the kitchen. He looked over at her, stunned by the sight of her without a messy bun. Her dirty-blonde hair fell past her shoulders and hung down in unkempt waves nearly to her stomach.

"Do you want something to drink?"

He raised his brow at her as she tugged at the sleeves of her shirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "What?"

Mila scrunched her nose slightly as she pointed to the fridge. "Do you want something to drink?" She then turned and pointed to the stove. "Or some food? You didn't get your normal breakfast…"

Bucky nodded, shifting on the stool as he watched her open the fridge and lean down. He'd noticed her curves before when she was waitressing, but none of her work outfits came close to hugging her thighs and butt like those pants did. His gaze quickly shifted as she stood back up with a carton of eggs, a half-empty gallon of milk, and a small bowl with cellophane wrap around the top.

"I can make coffee if you want, or she has orange juice, milk, or sun tea" She set the eggs and the bowl down on the island across from him, unwrapping the top to reveal a mix of diced up veggies. "I hope you like omelets because that's kind of my specialty."

Bucky nodded as she began sautéing the veggies and then mixing the eggs and some milks in a separate bowl.

"Do you know what you want to drink yet, James?"

He felt a pang in his chest and before he could stop himself he was blurting out, "Bucky."

Mila stopped and furrowed her brow, one hand holding the milk as she was mid-step headed for the fridge. "I'm sorry?"

Clearing his throat, Bucky shifted on the stool. "My name really is James, but I go by Bucky." He watched the corner of her mouth twitch into an almost smile as she resumed her walk to the fridge.

"Ah, so, I was right?" She stood with the door open after replacing the milk, tilting her head at the man. He gave her a nod with a half-crooked smile and Mila couldn't help but smile. "Do you know what you want to drink yet… Bucky?"

There was an odd sensation that spread warmth throughout his entire body as he slowly nodded. "Orange juice, I think."

Mila grabbed the jug of orange juice and gently kicked the fridge door closed as she walked over to the veggies, stirring them with her free hand. "Changing it up on me, I see."

"Well," Bucky shrugged. "This isn't my typical breakfast, so I can't just go with coffee today."

Placing a lid over the vegetables, Mila opened a cupboard to the left of the stove and pushed up on her tippy toes in an attempt to grab a glass. "I have to say, I never imagined my first motorcycle ride to be with a complete stranger." She jumped when a hand reached around her, easily grabbing the glass on the top shelf that she had been reaching for. Mila turned and was startled to find Bucky's chest at her eye-level. She took in the scent of his leather jacket mixed with what she could only assume was Old Spice and man scent.

He smiled down at her slyly before moving back to the other side of the island. "I wouldn't say I'm a complete stranger. I mean, I know more about you than most of the other patrons at the café."

It took her a moment to adjust herself back to reality, and Mila smiled nervously. "It's because I never shut up, and I was determined to be your friend." At that she moved forward and twisted open the orange juice, pouring him a glass before meeting his gaze.

"Not many people try to make friends with the weirdo who always eats alone."

She faltered under his gaze, giving a light shrug. "I don't think you're a weirdo. And you don't eat alone."

Bucky gave a crooked smile. "Because you always sit with me."

Mila stared at him, her eyes scanning his hard, masculine features before the veggies popped and she jumped. Leaving the orange juice on the island she quickly pulled the lid off of the vegetables and stirred them again. Once the lid was covering them again she turned, moving to the side of the counter and leaning back. Her fingers worked at the edges of the marble countertop as she bit her lower lip and eyed Bucky.

"Why do you always wear that glove and jacket?" Her stomach churned as she realized she'd said that out loud.

Bucky glanced down at his left hand, closing it into a fist before looking back over at Mila. "What happened last night?"

Mila inhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her left calf with her right foot as her grip on the edge of the counter tightened. "I-I… I asked you first." She saw the dread cloud behind his eyes, but he came out of it quickly with a shrug.

"I was in the military. Served a few tours. Had some bad luck. Your turn." He could see her chest rising a falling faster now as her cheeks flushed. Bucky didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he had to know what had caused the light to leave her eyes. He'd been a loyal customer of hers for nearly seven months now, and she had never looked like this before.

"My boyfriend and I had a fight." Her words were stuttered, and she averted her eyes when she spoke. Mila found it too hard to actually meet Bucky's gaze.

"Did he hurt you?" There was rage in the pit of his stomach as the idea of a man laying his hands on Mila flashed through Bucky's mind.

She caught the darkness of his tone and the flash in his eyes as she shifted on the balls of her feet. "I… don't want to talk about it." Mila turned her back to him, hands shaking as she stirred the eggs and milk again before lifting the lid off of the veggies and pouring the eggs over top.

"Mila." Bucky closed both of his hands into fists and watched as her shoulders slumped.

"I'm fine, okay?" She used her free hand to wipe away whatever tears were trying to escape from her eyes before turning back to Bucky. "I'd rather not relive it, if it's all the same to you."

There was a familiar red behind his eyes as Bucky thought about what Nate could have possibly done to Mila. He couldn't decide if not knowing was worse than the truth. "Tell me you broke up with him…"

She gave a small nod. "I mean, I didn't say it to him face to face. I waited until he left. This morning I called a locksmith so they're probably changing the locks as we speak. I'll just stay here with Candy for a few days and then go back once it's all blown over." Mila turned back to the stove to focus on the omelet, feeling Bucky's gaze on her. "It's really okay, Bucky. He doesn't know where Candy lives so I'll be safe here."

As much as he wanted to believe her, something in him was saying that she wasn't safe, and wouldn't be while that guy was still out there. But he didn't want to upset her any more than she already was, so he decided to let it go for now.

"So." Mila started as she removed the food from the stove and began plating it. "What is it that you do for work?"

Thrown by the question, he paused for a split second to come up with an answer. She turned to set the plate in front of him and raised a brow. "Law enforcement."

"Hm?" Mila furrowed her brow and smiled playfully. "You? A cop?"

"Eh, I'm not a cop. I'm still employed by the military. Kind of a classified, need-to-know type thing." He watched the wheels turning in her head as she leaned over the counter and folded her hands together, eyeing him curiously.

She let out a casual "eh" before turning to start a pot of coffee. "I suppose I can see that. It would certainly explain your mysterious persona."

Bucky scoffed as he cut a piece of omelet and twisted the gooey cheese around his fork. "Mysterious?"

"Yeah!" Mila looked over her shoulder at him and pushed her hair back out of her way. "The leather jacket, the singular glove, the red ball cap… Each and every one of them is a sign of one of three types of people. One: a sociopath who doesn't like anyone knowing what he looks like. Two: a criminal on the lam. Three: an undercover some-type-of-good-guy who just wants to be left alone so he can do his job. All of which are the types of people to be exceptionally mysterious. So, if you say you're still employed by the military and it's a highly classified job, that would explain why you stalk around all mysterious-like."

Bucky finished chewing the bite of food in his mouth, savoring how good it was before leaning over the counter and shaking his head. "I don't _stalk_ around. I just… Walk."

Mila laughed as the coffee started to pour behind her. She wrapped her hands behind her head, pooling all of her hair behind her before releasing it and grinning. "You do so _stalk_ around. I've seen it every day when you leave the café. My guess would be that you're looking for someone. You showed up about seven months ago and have been to the same café every morning at the exact same time. You eat the same meal and always leave the same ridiculous tip." She moved around the island to stand beside Bucky, leaning against the edge of the counter as she cocked her head to the side. "You're precise in your movements and your normal daily routine. I'd say that whoever you're looking for probably frequents the neighborhood that I work in, which is known to house thugs and gangsters and nefarious sorts."

Bucky set his fork down and turned on the stool, watching Mila's form as she neared him and held herself so determined and sure. Placing his gloved hand on the counter beside her, he leaned forward, inching closer to her with a grin.

"You've figured me out. And I assume you know that means that I can't leave any loose-ends. I can't have anyone knowing what I'm up to."

Mila blinked up at him from under her eyelashes, folding her free hand behind her back and tugging at the hem of her shirt. "And if I promise not to tell anyone? Would you spare me?" She didn't know what had come over her to make her so brazen as to tease him, but there was something inside of her that made her want to trust him, to be near him.

Bucky watched as she pulled in her lower lip, biting it coyly and hiding a smile at the corner of her eyes. There was a tightness in his chest as he leaned in more, wanting to close the distance between them. But he remembered the way she'd looked earlier that morning, and it snapped him back to reality. He sat back away from her sharply, exhaling a laugh before turning back to his food. " _If_ that were true, I would have to spare you. I can't kill the only friend I've got out here."

Mila chuckled as she stepped back, turning her reddened cheeks from his view and moving back around the other side of the island. "Right. Bad form. Then you wouldn't have anybody to pester you every morning at breakfast!"

Hours passed faster than Mila or Bucky would have liked. They simply sat in the kitchen for a while talking, moved to the living room to chat, even ended up on the back porch nearer to the evening. Mila had opened a bottle of wine which she was denting away at without any help from Bucky. He was sticking with water as they watched the sky start to darken.

Mila was mid laugh as she adjusted herself in the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and wriggling her toes under the flare of her pants. She proceeded to pour the remainder of the wine into her glass before settling back in with her legs over the arm of the chair as she watched Bucky.

He smiled down at the glass in his hand before looking over at her and furrowing his brow. "What?"

"Nothing." Mila shook her head, but her voice had a song-like tune to it.

"Obviously something," Bucky chorted, "because you're staring at me and smiling."

After taking another drink of her wine, Mila tilted her head, her free arm resting on the back of the chair and running her fingers through her hair. "It's funny to see you so relaxed. I mean, everyone at the café would think I was lying if I told them about you like this."

Bucky inhaled deeply, chest puffing out as he stretched his legs out in front of him and settled further into his chair. "Maybe you shouldn't tell them, then?"

"Don't worry, secret agent man, your secret is safe with me." She raised her glass to toast him before drinking some more of the dark red liquid inside of it.

"A whole bottle all by yourself, huh?"

"It's only 14.2% alcohol content, so don't you worry your handsome little head. I'll be fine." She giggled again before taking another drink.

Bucky hear the sound of a car from up front, turning his head towards the door and listening as the front door creaked open and footsteps resounded through the hallway. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter just before the back porch door opened and Candy stepped out.

Mila raised her brow at Bucky, having watched him adjust as if he knew that Candy was home when there was no way that anyone could have heard her arrive. The house was too big and full of stuff. "How did you-"

Candy cut her off, placing her hands on her hips and looking between the two. "Well, well… Don't you two look cozy?" She gestured towards Mila. "I see you found the German sweet-red. I was saving that, ya know."

Mila giggled as she held her glass out to her friend. "Do you want the rest?"

Bucky laughed and Candy nodded towards the house.

"I've got three more bottles in the cellar. I'll just open one of those. Ya know, since we're off tomorrow and all."

After setting his water glass down, Bucky patted his thigs and stood, bowing his head to Candy and Mila. "Ladies, I'll excuse myself now that the head of the household is home."

"Ah, no!" Mila pouted, grabbing Candy's hand and shaking it. "Let him stay, please?"

"Honestly," she turned her green eyes on the man, "you don't have to go. I owe you big time for helping out my best friend today."

Bucky let out a nervous chuckle, shaking his head. "It was no big deal. I'm just glad she's sort of back to her normal self."

Candy patted Mila's hand and freed herself, kissing her friends forehead before gesturing towards the house. "I'll walk him out, and when I come back I've got another bottle of wine with your name on it!"

Mila waved to Bucky, biting her lower lip as she watched him turn and head into the house. She threw her head back as the warm tingling sensation of tipsiness took over.

Candy waited by the front door as their male guest gathered his hat and helmet, pulling the door open just a bit before stopping him. She glanced back towards the porch where she'd left Mila, lowering her voice before turning her gaze to Bucky's.

"Did she tell you this isn't the first time?" She could tell by how quickly his face went white that Mila hadn't told him everything. "It's happened a few times before, and I'm guessing it's going to keep happening because she can't bring herself to stop it."

Bucky shook his head in disbelief. "She said she ended it with him."

"Yeah," Candy nodded, placing her free hand on her hip, "until he calls her and somehow manages to get her back under his thumb. Look, I don't know you, but I know Mila. I've known her for years now and I love that girl more than I love my own family. I will do anything to protect her. Which means that if you're trying to use her pain right now to snake your way in-"

"Woah!" Bucky put his gloved hand up in surrender. "I'm not trying to do anything. She's the only person in this Godforsaken city who has been kind to me. I know you think you need to protect her, but it isn't from me." He glanced over his shoulder before locking his gaze back on the woman blocking his only way out. "If you're worried about her, keep her away from Nate."

He pulled the door open, gently pushing past her and heading for his motorcycle.

Candy watched him leave, closing the front door and locking it as she let out a sigh of relief. Just as she turned, she saw Mila heading in through the kitchen, her face fallen as she clutched her cellphone in her hand.

"Hey tiger," Candy pinched at Mila's sides, "you ready for round two?"

Mila flashed her friend a small smile, shaking her head. "Actually I need to get some sleep, so if you're okay with it I'm going to head up to bed early."

Candy knew that Mila wasn't an easy drunk. Hell she could outdrink an Irishman on St. Patrick's day. But after the previous night, and her lack of sleep, she knew that Mila just needed to rest. "Yeah, no problem. I'll lock up, you just get some sleep, okay?"

Mila hugged Candy before heading up to the spare bedroom on the second floor. After removing her bra and changing into some shorts, she climbed into bed and curled under the covers. Sleep wouldn't come that night… only nightmares.

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Reviews please! Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry it took a couple of days, but here's chapter 4! Enjoy!

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations.**_

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"Good morning!" Candy's voice rang throughout the kitchen as Mila entered in her over-size shirt and pajama shorts.

"Good morning." Mila flashed her a smile before sitting down at the island counter and watching as her friend poured her a cup of coffee.

"So," Candy started slowly, gauging Mila's reaction before continuing, "what do you want to do today?"

Taking a small sip of her coffee Mila shrugged. "I just planned on being a bum today honestly since I don't have to work."

"Ehhh!" Her voice mimicked that of a blow-horn when a T.V. contestant answered a question wrong. "We're going out. Shopping first because I can't have you just running around in all of your baggy clothes while you're here with me. We've got to get you into something form-fitting to boost your self-esteem. And then we'll go out for lunch, have a few drinks, Uber back to the house, and have a few people over for a cook-out."

Mila raised a brow as she held her cup between both of her hands. "If you already had the day planned out, why'd you bother asking me what I wanted to do?" She chuckled at Candy's playful demeanor.

"Because I wanted to give you the option of coming up with something more fun than what I have planned. Obviously I should have known what you were going to say! So, get your butt upstairs and change, I'll order the Uber in a few minutes."

As much as Mila disliked shopping, she enjoyed spending her free time with Candy. So whilst following around her dark-haired friend, Mila kept a smile on her face as often as she could. Candice was good company to keep; always managing to make even the most tiresome or menial tasks fun. At their first store, she pulled out all the stops and even had a playlist on her phone of "perfect movie-montage-music." She even went so far as to make a separate playlist for each of the stores that they went into.

Candy didn't mind spending some of her trust-fund cash on Mila, waving it off nonchalantly every time that Mila protested her friend buying her yet another two or three outfits.

"It's my money and I'll spend it how I want!" Those infamous words that never failed to make Mila feel a little more helpless and a little more loved all at the same time. After a morning of shopping the two were seated at their favorite table at _La Maison Du Vin La Maison Du Vin_ and chuckling about one of their own patrons who Candy had to scold for touching her inappropriately.

"I mean, seriously! Do these guys think that I enjoy spending my time being felt up by their crusty old sausage fingers?!"

Mila nodded as she took a sip of her wine. "Seeing as you could easily get a job anywhere else in the city and yet you choose to stay at the café… I'm going to go with a hard yes."

Candy rolled her eyes and strummed her nails on the glass table-top. "I couldn't get a job _anywhere_ , I'm sure even _my_ options are limited."

"Candy. This is New York. You could walk into any modeling agency and I promise you they'd send you right to makeup and wardrobe thinking you were already a signed contract."

There was a moment of pause before Candy waggled her eyebrows and then winked at Mila. "That may be true, but then who would be at the café to give you shit about 'Table 7' all the time?"

"Oh," Mila scoffed, "I'm sure Earl would be more than happy to take the reins on that subject!"

"Speaking of the mysterious red ball cap, I don't suppose you had the chance to inquire as to his current career options yesterday?"

Mila allowed a few seconds of pause just for dramatic effect, watching as Candy started to fidget in anticipation. "He works for the military. So, if I'm correct, that's two points for being employed, and an extra point for being in the most difficult job that our country offers. That makes him a solid, hard, ten." She raised her glass and took a victorious drink, watching as Candy's face fell and she rolled her head back in defeat.

"Ugh, fine. I suppose underneath that hat and leather jacket he does look more like a Roman God than a defective."

"Also, I found out that he wears the jacket and the glove because he was in an accident during one of his tours. He didn't go into detail but I'm assuming there's probably a lot of scarring, maybe even a prosthetic… Who knows?"

Her phone buzzed on the table beside her, and Mila picked it up. When Nate's name flashed across the screen, her stomach sank and she glanced over at Candy, thumb resting just above the unlock button.

"Oh no, I know that look." Candy leaned forward and reached across the table. "Give it to me. Don't you dare think about answering that."

Mila pulled her hand back, looking down at the phone as it continued to buzz. "I'm sure he just wants to talk about-"

"When he can come over and get his things? Nope, not falling for that again, give it to me."

Reluctantly the dirty-blonde reached across the table and handed the phone to Candy, sinking down into her chair as her friend swiped to the left and declined the call.

"Mila." Candy slid the phone into her purse before reaching her free hand across the table and resting it atop her friend's. "Honey… Every time he does this to you, you just go running back to him. Enough is enough. You deserve someone who is going to treat you right… Someone you can have a future and a family with."

"I can't have kids, Candy. You know that." She attempted to pull her hand away as the tear bit at the corners of her eyes, but Candy wasn't budging.

"So what? There's always adoption, and even if you decide you don't want them at all, at least you'll have a partner that you can count on. Someone that you don't have to be afraid of. Honey… He thinks he _owns you_. That's not a healthy relationship."

Mila's jaw clenched as she bit back her words, feeling the anger and disappointment welling in her gut. "Not everyone has the luxury of a perfect, healthy relationship. Nate is the first guy who ever even looked at me. And there haven't been any other takers in the last three years. I'm almost thirty. I might as well just accept that he's it for me and be done with it."

"Almost thirty?" Candy shook her head and finally released her friend's hand. "You're not even halfway through with life yet! You're barely in the prime years of your life. And you want to settle down with that jackass?!"

Her eyes moved to lock on something behind Mila, who in turn shifted in her seat to see Nate standing behind her, his phone in his hand.

"I suppose," he started, "if she does want to 'settle down' with this jackass, then that is fully her decision to make and maybe, Candice, you should keep your nose out of it."

Candy stood up, setting her wine down and moving around the table. Mila jumped up between the two and put a hand on her friend's shoulder, shaking her head.

"Candy, please don't!" Her voice came out a harsh whisper as a few people at surrounding tables began watching the three. "Let it go?"

Nate smirked, waving at Candy with his free hand. "Bye Candice."

Mila grabbed her purse and Candy handed her back her cellphone, face falling as Mila walked over to Nate.

"Let's just go." She took Nate's arm in her hand and began leading him away from the bistro, all of her other bags left at the table with Candy. She didn't speak again until they were in his Mercedes and pulling away into traffic.

"I've been trying to call you."

"I know," Mila pinched the bridge of her nose, "I've been busy."

"Drinking with your pathetic excuse of a friend?" He turned his dark gaze on her, bidding her to fight back.

Keeping her voice calm and eyes focused out the car window, she nodded. "You know Candy is a good friend to me, I don't have anyone else." There was a pang in her chest as she thought about Bucky, but she couldn't very well tell Nate about having a male friend in her life. Lord knows that would start a shit storm.

"It doesn't matter, you don't need anyone else besides me." He gave her a once-over, the corners of his mouth turning down into a scowl. "Another dress?"

Mila glanced down at herself, the light material of her baby-blue, knee-length dress with thick straps laying delicately around her body. "I like it..."

"You'll change as soon as we get to your place." He turned his gaze to the road ahead, not noticing as Mila's eyes widened in fear.

"Actually," she twisted her fingers together as she tried to sound as inconspicuous as possible, "don't I have clothes at your place? It's closer, so maybe we could just go there?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to read his expression and hoping that he didn't insist on going to her apartment. The locks had already been changed and she hadn't had the chance to pick up her new key yet. If Nate found out that she'd changed her locks, all Hell would break loose.

He inhaled deeply, sighing in aggravation. "Whatever. At least I know you'll be presentable."

She let out a breath of relief and leaned her head against the car window, wishing beyond hope that this night would be over with quickly.

* * *

A few hours later after she was cleaned up and changed, Mila climbed back into Nate's car, fingernails quietly picking at the fabric of her jeans as she tapped her foot against the floorboard of the car. The navy blue silk of her long-sleeve blouse accented her eyes well enough, and the fabric hung just so that it hugged her chest but fell loosely over her stomach. She didn't need the long sleeves, her bruises had already faded as if they never existed 24 hours prior. Luckily for Mila she had a tendency of healing rather quickly; it'd been that way for as far back as she could remember.

The Mercedes pulled onto a dark, not well-lit street and slowed just enough to head down an unfamiliar alleyway. Mila's eyes narrowed as she tried to read the dull sign above what seemed to be a doorway up ahead.

"Where are we?"

Nate ignored her, pulling into a parking spot off to the right and shuffling to grab something out of the backseat.

Once he was out of the car, Mila followed suit, looking back over her shoulder to gauge how far away the main road was. She followed him up to the metal door of the building, and after Nate had knocked, a man's voice could be heard through a small opening just at Nate's eye level.

"Password."

"Vorobey."

Mila turned to Nate, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "What is that?"

He didn't bother looking down at her as the metal door was unlocked on the inside and pulled open, the hinges screeching. "Russian."

"I didn't know you spoke Russian…" He replied silently by grabbing her arm and yanking her through the doorway, the metal slamming shut after the two of them were inside. Mila's eyes scanned the room: it appeared to be an old speakeasy, with a full, functioning bar to the right, and a group of tables in spread out in the middle of the floor. A few of the tables were occupied by men, brooding over low conversations and throwing curious glances at the two newcomers. To the very back of the room there was another door with three locks on it and another thin slit just at eye-level presumably for another password.

"Sit. There." Nate shoved Mila towards a table across the room, pointing to it sternly.

Mila took her arm from him, shaking her head. "What are we doing here?" Her eyes flitted around at the other patrons in the room, counting herself as the only woman and outnumbered by at least fifteen.

Nate grabbed the back of her neck, forcefully shoving her down into a chair and slamming her head down on the table. "I said fucking sit!"

"Nathanial!"

Mila grimaced in pain, palms flat against the table top as she heard footsteps approaching. She couldn't see the man speaking but she could hear the low rumble in his voice as he whispered a harshly at Nate.

"Are you insane?!"

Nate released Mila's neck, taking a small step back and holding his hands up with a grin on his lips. "I've already told you: she does what I say, when I say it. Her defiance is problematic at best, but she knows who's in charge." He gestured toward himself with his hands before turning the collar of his jacket out to reveal a small silver pin.

As she rubbed at the back of her neck, Mila sat up and eyed the man in front of Nate. His voice seemed much older, but he looked to be about the same age of Nate. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If Gospozha sees you treating the Vorobrey like this, it'll be all of our heads. We can't risk it."

Nate let out a bellowed laugh. "I'm not worried and neither should you be. This bitch is securely on my leash and I don't plan on anything ruining our plans. I'm tired of waiting. Where is Gospozha? We need to move soon, or we'll miss our chance."

The second man chortled, shaking his head. "We don't make any moves without direct orders."

"How much longer are we going to have to wait? I fucking brought her here, are we just going to sit around on our asses and do nothing?!"

There was a loud banging on the metal door at the front of the bar, and the room went silent as all eyes turned to it.

"Password."

Mila couldn't hear what the person out in the alley said, but it was followed by a loud blast and the heavy door being knocked in.

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That's it for this one! Please review so I know what you all think. Much love!


	5. Chapter 5

I'm doing a bit of POV change in this one! I tried to make it the least confusing as possible, so please forgive me!

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations.**_

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24 hours prior…

Bucky walked into his apartment, stripping off his gloves and stuffing them into his jacket pockets. He hung the jacket on the hook by the front door before moving into the apartment while flexing his metallic hand. He could hear the high beam of a red sniper rifle laser, and the slow, calm breathing from someone in his living room.

"You want to tell that sniper across the street to put his gun down, or do I need to go over there and do it myself?" After grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Bucky nonchalantly walked into the living room, leaning against the wall across from the couch and staring into the blackness of his unlit living room.

"You've been M.I.A. for hours now." Nat's velvety smooth voice resounded off of the walls as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her crossed legs as she eyed the man across the room, a pistol in one hand. "Captain was starting to get worried."

Bucky scoffed before taking a large drink from the bottle in his hand and shaking his head. "Steve knows not to worry about me, let's cut the bullshit. You and one-eyed-Willy thought I'd gone dark again."

Natasha leaned back against the couch, moving her left arm to rest on the back while her right hand gripped the handle of her gun. "You know Nick hates it when you call him that."

"Maybe he'd appreciate it if he'd actually watched The Goonies." Bucky sighed, rolling his neck back and forth to pop out the kinks before taking another swig of his beer and looking towards the window facing the building across the street. "You gonna call off your attack dog now?"

Her lips curled into a smirk as she gently raised her left hand to her ear. "Call it in, Mick."

"What did he have in the gun this time?"

Natasha raised her shoulders in a light shrug. "A little something just in case." She holstered her own gun before reaching over and turning on the lamp beside her. It illuminated the dark jeans and black button-up she was wearing. "Wanna tell me why you missed a briefing?"

"Something came up." Bucky stated flatly before crossing the room and plopping down into his arm chair.

"Look, Barnes, Steve stuck his neck out for you. If you were smart you'd do whatever it took to avoid making him look bad."

Bucky's grip on the bottle tightened, but he played it cool. "I was helping a friend. Honest to God."

Nat's brow quirked in amusement. "Even I know you don't have any friends."

"Think what you will, Nat. I know what I'm doing, and I don't have to tell you where I'm at every second of every day."

"Actually, you do. You're property of SHIELD right now, Barnes. Until we know that you aren't going to go dark again, you answer to _me_. HYDRA is getting restless, there's been more movement over the last few weeks than there has in the last ten years combined. They're up to something, and we need to figure out what it is as soon as possible."

Bucky shifted on the couch, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small white envelope. He tossed it onto the coffee table across from Natasha before leaning back and taking another drink of beer. Her eyes scanned the envelope, lips pursed in curiosity.

"They're making a move tomorrow. That's the address and number of men involved. After helping my friend today, I went and did a little snooping to make up for the lost hours."

"How'd you get this?"

"I have a source."

"Is it reliable?"

Bucky grinned, feigning an uncertain shrug just to piss Natasha off. "I'd say a man with a metal arm and no problem killing people makes some sources less likely to lie. I have every confidence that this information is true, and I plan on moving in tomorrow. With or without SHIELD's help."

Nat picked the envelope up, pulling out the folded papers inside and looking them over slowly. Her eyes darted to Bucky once she'd finished reading, her corners narrowing as she contemplated silently.

"Okay. I'll call it in to Fury, and we'll get what you need. But I'm going with you, as well as a handful of men."

"No, too many people. Just you and me."

"Me and four men."

"You and two." Bucky watched as Nat's nose scrunched slightly. He knew he was getting under her nerves, and he savored every second of it.

"You, me, and two other guys. But I get to pick the guys."

"Deal."

Twenty-four hours passed faster than Bucky would have liked. He was suited up in the back of an armored van with Natasha and her two men, a couple of techies seated at the computers mounted within the van talking back and forth while the driver headed towards their destination.

"You good, Barnes?"

His gray-blue eyes shifted as he finished holstering his throwing knives and pistols. "I'd be better if I had my rifle."

Nat grinned. "Sorry, too messy."

The vehicle pulled to a stop, and the back doors were pulled open from the outside. Bucky jumped down, landing hard on the concrete of the alley and moving forward a few steps, pausing to peer around the corner at the door leading into whatever shit-hole establishment the HYDRA operatives were gathered in.

Nat came up behind him with her two guys, all of which had their weapons at the ready.

"You wanna take lead on this?" she asked even though she already knew the answer.

Bucky looked back at her, pulling his black mask up over his mouth and giving her a nod.

Mila jumped up as the door was blown in, and gunshots rang out. Just as Nate turned to grab her, a bullet ripped through his shoulder, knocking him into Mila and sending them both to the floor. He screamed in pain, and Mila hurriedly shifted from underneath of him, panicking and crawling away from Nate and behind one of the wooden tables that had been knocked over as the men inside of the bar hurried for cover and readied their own weapons.

There was screaming in Russian, as well as English, and Mila peeked over the edge of the table to see the four who had come in with guns blazing. In the lead was a shaggy-haired man with a black mask covering his mouth and nose, a black leather vest with dark pants and heavy combat boots. What struck Mila the most was his left arm which was made completely out of metal. He donned two pistols, precisely aiming as he pulled the triggers repeatedly. Behind him was a red-headed woman in all black leather, guns holstered to her thighs and her waist. She was just as precise as he was with her shots. The two behind her were perhaps men in full SWAT uniforms. At least, that's what they looked like. They were firing some sort of M-16s and covering the two in the lead.

A bullet ripped through the wood just beside Mila's shoulder, and she dropped to the floor, covering her ears and shaking as she tried not to scream. The gunfire only lasted a few minutes, replaced immediately after by the sound of flesh-hitting flesh as the intruders began to physically fight anyone who was still standing. Mila felt a hand grab her ankle and she let out a slight scream, looking down to see Nate growling at her angrily.

"You stupid bitch!"

She kicked his arm away, getting to her hands and knees and crawling along the wall, barely ducking out of the way as a man was thrown into the wall above her. She was barely out of line of sight as she neared a door for a cleaning supply cupboard, noticing it was cracked open just enough for her to get her fingers through and maybe pull it open enough to slide in undetected.

Nate screamed as the man with the metal arm grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet.

"Nathanial Desmond?"

He spit into the man's face, shaking in anger and fear as he received a left-hook to the jaw.

Bucky wiped the spit from his face after sending his fist across the man's jaw. Nat grabbed his arm, which he shook off. "Don't worry, I'm pulling my punches." He then picked the man up by the collar again and threw him back against the wall. "You can answer my questions here, or we can take you in and I'll let my associate here have some alone time with you." He watched the man's eyes flit behind him towards Natasha, who smiled eerily.

"I'll take the bitch." Nate spat, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "She looks like a good time."

Bucky glanced back over his shoulder, the corner of Natasha's eyebrow raising as she tilted her head. He could see the amusement behind her eyes. "Oh, she's a lot of fun. Especially when she gets you into her interrogation room." He spun the man around, forcing him face-first into the wall and twisting his arms behind his back. "Just a heads up, you'll likely be crying before the end of tonight."

One of Nat's men proceeded to zip-tie Nathanial's wrists together, dragging him back towards the door as a handful of other men came in and began zip-tying anyone who was still alive.

"I thought we agreed on just the four of us." Bucky raised a brow and looked down at Natasha, who smirked back at him.

"I knew we'd be taking in more than just a handful of them. Whoever you left alive, that is."

There was a flash of movement across the room and a door slammed shut, causing Natasha to aim and fire repeated rounds. Bucky heard the scream that came from within the small room, and his eyes widened as he grabbed Nat's wrists and forced her to stop firing.

"What the hell, Barnes?!"

Mila had used the distraction of the intruders focusing on Nate to quietly slip into the cleaning supply closet, but she'd pulled the door closed too hard and ended up slamming it. What followed were a barrage of bullets splintering through the wooden door as she curled into the fetal position and screamed, her hands covering her ears and head as best as possible.

The bullets stopped, and Mila's heart leapt into her throat as she heard footsteps approaching.

"It's a woman for Christ's sake!" Bucky ripped the door clean off the hinges, stomach lurching as he looked down at the crying, terrified woman to see Mila huddled in the corner of the closet. "Fuck."

Nat came up beside him, holstering one of her guns and gesturing to the other men. One came around, zip tie in his hand as he made to push past Bucky and take the woman from the closet.

Bucky threw his metallic arm out, catching the SHIELD member by the wrist and twisting his arm backward and snapping it immediately. The man screamed and Bucky felt the metal barrel of Nat's pistol against the side of his head.

"Barnes…" she warned. "Don't make me shoot you."

Releasing the now injured agent, Bucky slowly put his hands up into the air. "You don't have to restrain her, she'll come willingly. You can trust me."

Mila's entire body shook as she looked up at the two blocking her only way out.

Nat eyed the cowering woman before giving a small nod. "If she makes a move, I'll shoot her."

Bucky lowered down to kneel in front of Mila, reaching his right hand out towards her. She pulled back away from him, tears only worsening as she shook her head.

"Look, either you take my hand and come with me, or they're going to drag you out. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

Mila's eyes narrowed as she looked at the man, his gray-blue eyes ever so familiar. "Wh-what?"

"I won't let anything happen to you." He extended his hand closer to her, urging her to take it before Nat grew too impatient and restrained them both.

For some reason Mila could have sworn that the man sounded exactly like Bucky, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that he would be the type of person to beat, kill, and kidnap people. She extended a shaking hand and placed it in the one offered to her, in turn being pulled up to her feet.

Bucky silently sighed a breath of relief and wrapped his flesh arm securely around Mila's waist, pulling her into him so that his body was protecting hers from any outside force. He threw Nat a glance as he guided Mila through the carnage in the bar and outside into the dank, musky air of the alleyway.

* * *

Bucky stared through the one-way mirrored glass, his mask gone and his arms both exposed after being stripped of his weapons and leather armor. Mila was sitting at the metal table just on the other side of the glass, face hollowed and cheeks and nose red from her crying. He'd barely managed to get her calmed down enough on their way into SHIELD's New York office before Nat had separated them. It had probably been for the best, he kept trying to convince himself. If Mila had known that it was him behind that mask…

He shuddered at the thought, arms crossed over his chest as Natasha entered the room and followed his line of sight. She had a thick manila envelope folded under her hands against her stomach.

"This is your friend?" Her voice was taunting, as if she knew something that Bucky didn't.

He nodded at her suspiciously. "I told you, there's no way she was involved with HYDRA. Nathanial was her- _is_ her boyfriend. If he was involved then I can promise you she was dragged in unknowingly." He turned to look at Nat as she looked up at him with a sickening grin.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Barnes." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked back towards the woman on the other side of the glass. "Do you want to come in for this?"

Bucky shook his head, his stomach uneasy by the way Natasha was acting. She had the tendency to make him uncomfortable; that's why he found her name Black Widow so fitting for her.

The door opened and Mila turned to watch the red-headed woman enter, taking the seat across from Mila as a large man closed the door and then stood in front of it, brooding over the table.

"I want to go home please." The red-headed woman didn't even acknowledge that Mila was speaking, instead she proceeded to pull out a knife and easily cut open the top of the large envelope she had in front of her. Mila glanced up at the man in front of the door before leaning forward and raising her voice slightly. "Ma'am, please… I already told you, I didn't have anything to do with what happened back there."

"You've been in our custody for a few hours now." Natasha carefully removed a stack of papers from the envelope, spreading them out face down on the table in front of her. "And you have yet to tell us your name."

Mila growled in frustration. "I already told you! My name is Mila Anderson. I'm twenty-nine years old, I was born in Springfield, Illinois in 1990."

Nat folded her hands in her lap, leaning back in her chair nonchalantly. "And you never knew your parents because…"

"They gave me up for adoption. I was-"

"Raised in an orphanage outside of Divernon, Illinois where you ran away when you were fifteen." Natasha picked up the first paper to the right, flipping it over and reading from it. "You managed to made your way to The Big Apple, where you got a job waitressing and moved from shelter to shelter for five years before managing to get your own apartment. You met Nathanial Desmond when you were twenty four, started dating, have been together ever since. And you're just a lowly waitress at a café on the east side of town."

Mila shifted uncomfortably in her chair, hands folded atop the cold metal table as she glanced between the woman and the man. "Yeah."

"I've read your statement, _Mila_ , but I want to know who you really are." Brushing some hair behind her ear, Natasha raised a brow. "My boss is growing impatient, which means I'm running out of time to play nice." She leaned forward, sliding one of her guns from the holster on her thigh and setting it down in front of herself.

"I told you…" Mila shook her head, breath catching in her throat. "My name is Mila Anders-" She was cut off when a hand grabbed her by the back of her hair and slammed her head into the table. Mila saw speckles of white behind her eyelids as her head was lifted back up, but before it could be slammed down again, the door to the room flew open and the hand holding her hair was released.

Bucky couldn't stand there and watch Natasha interrogate Mila when he knew she was innocent. As soon as Samson, the man who was in the room with Natasha, moved for Mila, Bucky ran into the hall, kicked open the interrogation room door, and ripped Samson's hand away from Mila. He pulled the man back, sending his metal fist into the man's face a few times before he heard Nat's gun cocking. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, meeting Nat's gaze as she pointed the gun at Mila.

"Barnes?"

Bucky inhaled and exhaled deeply, clenching his left hand into a fist before dropping Samson to the floor.

"I won't let you torture her. She's innocent." He moved up beside Mila, gently taking her face in his hands and tilting her head up to look at him.

Mila blinked a few times, her head unsteady as she tried to keep conscious. When the warmth of two hands found her skin, she looked up into the face of someone she least expected to see.

"Table seven?" She earned a smile from him, and she reached up to take his wrists in her hands. When her sight came back into focus, Mila looked down at his arms, gasping and pushing herself away. The legs of her chair dragged on the floor, and she tipped backwards. He caught the sides of the chair with his metal hand, and Mila shielded her face with her arms.

"Mila, it's me! I'm not going to hurt you."

"Y-you… you killed them! You came in and you just killed them all!"

Bucky felt the pain of one thousand stabs to his chest as he repositioned her chair, taking a step back to give Mila some breathing room.

"Mila, you don't understand-"

"Enough!" Natasha flipped over the sprawled out stacks of paper, sliding them across the table so that Bucky and Mila could see them. "Her name is Milandra Ivanov. She wasn't born in Illinois, she was born in Russia in 1912." She pointed to each of the papers with her free hand, looking pointedly at Bucky as he slowly scanned the papers. "Each of these piles is a different span of fifteen years when she was living as someone else. They're her alias's, Bucky!"

He shook his head as she moved the papers to the side, Mila's eyes scanning them just as quickly as his were.

"That's impossible." Mila pushed the papers away from herself. "These can't be me-"

"They are." Natasha slid her birth certificate across the table.

"I can't- I can't be… That would make me 106 years old." Mila shook her head feverishly. "I'm turning thirty next week! Look at me!"

Bucky's brows pulled together as he leaned onto the table, palms flat against the surface. "Nat… This doesn't make any sense."

With a sigh, Natasha gestured at the papers in front of her. "There are pictures, facial recognitions, we ran a DNA test earlier when we first brought her in. Everything in here is solid evidence of who she is. And… _what_ she is."

Mila raised a brow. " _What_ I am? What am I?"

Natasha cocked her head to the side. "Don't play dumb, Milandra. We have you on video, in photos, dating all the way back to 1941."

"You have me on video and in photos doing what?!"

"Killing people! She's a fucking assassin, Barnes."

Mila was taken aback, breath caught in her throat as she felt Bucky's eyes move to her. The room grew warm as she shifted and shook her head. "No. Not possible. I couldn't have done that. I don't have it in me! And my parents weren't even born yet in 1941."

"Your mother was a high ranking official in HYDRA. You were born with exceptional healing powers, super human strength and agility, and much more. Your mother? She gave HYDRA your blood which helped them create the Winter Soldier." Nat's eyes locked on to Bucky. "You have _your friend_ to thank for what they did to you."

Bucky looked down at Mila, watching as she dropped her head into her hands and mumbled under her breath.

"No, no, no-no-no-no! This isn't possible. I never knew my mother, she gave me up for adoption." Closing her eyes, Mila felt her head start to spin. She repeated to herself, "My name is Mila Anderson, I was born in Springfield, Illinois in 1990. My name is Mila Anderson, I was born in Springfield, Illinois in 1990. My name is… My name… My-" Her head got heavy as Mila felt her airways constricting. Her temples began to throb and she leaned forward in the chair, gasping for air as flashes of light and dark bolts started to pop behind her eyes.

Her hands started to tremble, Mila clutched them in fists as she let out a scream, her mind racing as the faces and screams of hundreds of people exploded behind her eyes and ears.

Bucky grabbed Mila's shoulders as she started to shake, going into what seemed like convulsions. He lifted her from the chair and laid her across the tables, papers be damned as he took her head in his hands and hovered over her. "Mila! Mila, wake up!" He looked over at Natasha as she reached up to her ear and whispered something into her hidden mic. "Do something, Romanoff!" And just like that, Mila went still.

Bucky gently shook her shoulders before leaning down and listening for breathing. Neither her chest nor her stomach was rising/falling. Sheer panic set in as Bucky looked over at Natasha, her eyes widened in surprise. "What the fuck did you do?!"

Nat jumped at Bucky's booming voice, shaking her head and setting her gun down before she, too, leaned over and tried to find the breath in Mila. "I didn't _do anything_!" Just as Natasha was calling in a medic, the woman on the table sat up quickly, startling the other two in the room. But when she looked into Mila's eyes, Nat knew that this wasn't Bucky's friend who was looking back at them.

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Drop a review if you liked it, thanks so much! Next chapter out soon 3


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations._**

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Mila's eyes shot open as she sat up quickly, gasping for air and looking around. She found herself in the spare bed at Candy's house, the walls and pictures hung around soothing her as she wiped the cold sweat from her brow. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she rubbed at her temples and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Unsure of the exact time, Mila assumed it was near mid-morning based on the amount of light pouring in through the windows as she descended onto the first floor and hung a right through the dining room.

"Candy, I had the strangest dream-" Mila stopped mid-sentence, frozen in place as her eyes landed on Bucky who quickly stood from his seat at the kitchen table. Sprawled out in front of him were a number of different weapons ranging in size from 'fit-in-the-pocket' to 'blowing up a tank.'

"Mila." Candy was behind the center island, a glass of red wine and half a bottle in front of her as she smiled meekly at her friend.

"What's going on?"

Bucky gestured for Mila to sit, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He caught her eyes drift to his left arm, and he forced a smile. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

Slowly moving into the kitchen, Mila stopped at the counter across from Candy, keeping her eyes fixed on Bucky as she nodded. "I remember being at that bar with Nate, and you coming in and killing everyone-"

"I didn't kill everyone. I only killed the ones I had to. Most of them were just wounded so that we could take them in for questioning. I swear."

"I remember your red-headed friend, and how she interrogated me for hours." He nodded, not saying anything as Mila continued. "And I remember her ridiculous story about me being born in Russian back in 1912 or something."

At the mention of it, Candy picked up her wine glass and took a few big gulps from it, only setting it down again to pour more into it.

Mila glanced at her friend and furrowed her brow. "I must have fainted," she continued as she turned her eyes back to Bucky, "because I don't remember anything after that."

Bucky nodded, leaning back against the kitchen table and folding his arms across his chest.

Mila's gaze flickered to the way his muscles twitched, curious as to how the metal arm was shaped so realistically with similar twitches.

"You went into convulsions and passed out. You woke up a few minutes later and proceeded to attack Natasha and I." He paused, watching as Mila's face reddened and she laughed.

"Yeah, okay!" She glanced at Candy, who only looked down with a fallen face.

"Mila…" Bucky rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing a bandaged wound on his shoulder. "You stabbed me."

Her blue eyes widened, mouth agape as she stuttered for words. "W-with a knife?!"

Bucky nodded and fixed his sleeve. "You almost shot Natasha, I had to take the gun from you. You barely kicked her ass and came at me, slurring something in Russian. A handful of SHIELD agents came in to restrain you, but you worked them over like children and ran out of the room. I had to take you down with a tranq."

Mila shook her head. "A tranq?"

"As in a tranquilizer. Heavy duty. The kind they use to take down men like me."

"Men… like… you?" Mila threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't understand!"

Bucky ran his hands through his hair, agitation growing and more evident in his voice when he spoke next. "Soldiers, specifically soldiers who have been genetically and bionicley altered to be super fast, super strong, and nearly impossible to kill. I was brought back from the brink of death by an organization known as HYDRA. They gave me this arm and altered my state of mind, turning me into a weapon of mass destruction. I can kill a single man standing in a locked room surrounded by twenty bodyguards and nobody would ever see me coming. That is the type of solider that I am. That is apparently the type of solider _you are_."

"I'm not a soldier!" Mila's voice boomed, only to be silenced by Candy's scream.

"Enough!" She waved her hands in the air, frustration clear across her features as she slammed down a smart phone with a paused video on it. "Just, watch the damn video, Mila." Her hands were shaking as she pulled them back, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her wine glass and giving her best friend a sympathetic look.

Mila did as she was instructed, watching a video from the early morning news about what had happened. Her face was plastered on the screen, the anchors talking about Milandra Ivanov; the known assassin who was the cause of dozens of murders in the early 1990s. Mila's voice caught in her throat, and she turned to Candy, shaking her head. "I don't understand…"

Candy shrugged, taking her phone back and exiting out of the video. "I don't either, but you can't deny that the face on that screen is yours, and your history is pretty sketchy."

"My history? I was given up for adoption! How is that sketchy?!"

"Do you even remember when you were fifteen?!" Candy shook her head. "Can you tell me what the orphanage that you grew up in looked like? Can you remember where your first job was when you got to New York? Can you remember anything, anything at all, before you started working at the café and met Nate and me?"

Silence fell over the room as Mila wracked her brain for memories. She saw bits and pieces of herself a few years younger, the excitement she felt when Earl hired her and she started working with Candy. She could remember the date that she met Nate and how it had seemed like Fate was laughing in her face. But as hard as Mila tried, she couldn't remember anything prior to New York circa 2010.

Candy nodded and looked over at Bucky, Mila following suit as tears welled in her eyes. "How is this possible?"

Bucky shrugged, guiding Mila over to the table and watching as she sat down, her hands shaking. "HYDRA is good at covering their tracks, they always have been. If they've had anything to do with you in the past and they didn't want you to know about it then they have ways of making you forget."

Mila rubbed her hands over her face before resting her elbows on the table and sighing, disbelief clear across her face. "What about last night? How did I do everything that you said I did, but not remember any of it?"

Bucky settled in the seat beside her, tensing uncomfortably as Candy sat on the other side of Mila. "I, uh… I've been under their control for a long time. There were –are– a series of code words that turn off the part of me that's Bucky, and brings to life the Winter Soldier. I can't say that's what they did to you, or why they've had you living such a low-key life this past decade… But I can say that I'm going to figure it out. And I'm not going to let-"

"-anything happen to me?" Mila cocked her eyebrow, meeting Bucky's gaze. "Yeah, you said that. I think some time before I blacked out and stabbed you and those other guys."

He chuckled lightly, shrugging. "Trust me, I've shot at and stabbed plenty of SHIELD agents. And they've still got me working for them. They're the good guys."

"Do you really believe that?"

There was a long silent pause as Bucky looked at the fear and uncertainty behind Mila's eyes. "I believe my friend Steve. And he says they're the good guys, so… yeah."

Mila looked over at Candy who gave her a reassuring smile before taking her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, kid. I might not be a secret agent with super powers, but I am your best friend. Anything I can do to help, I'm on it."

Squeezing Candy's hand, Mila looked back over at Bucky. "Okay, super secret soldier man, what do we do?"

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Next chapter will be up in a couple of days!


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry it took so long to get this one out. Please read and review! Enjoy!

 _ **Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations.**_

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"Well," Bucky started off as he paused from arranging his weapons, "we need to disappear." His eyes moved from Mila to Candy, then back again. "Staying in such a populated area for long leaves us too exposed."

"Okay, but where are we supposed to go?" Mila could tell her question caught Bucky off guard, which made her a tad uncomfortable.

Candy hesitated for a brief moment before her optimistic voice filled the room. "I know a place." The other two turned to look at her as she shrugged nonchalantly.

Mila's eyes roamed over the lake-house cabin as she stepped through the front door. "How in the hell have I never known about this place?"

Candy chuckled, moving from the back passenger door of her 2014 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon with two suitcases in tow. "I come up here every other weekend, and you always had plans so I never got the chance to invite you." She pushed through the doorway and looked around, smiling.

Nodding along, Mila admired the dark wooden interior with its casual décor. She shuffled the grocery bags in her arms and glanced behind her shoulder as Bucky came up the steps of the front porch, his helmet in hand and his large black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

"How'd you afford a lake house in upstate New York, and a three bedroom Colonial in the suburbs?"

Candy brushed her hands over her dark blue dress and flashed the man a grin. "I may have inherited a lot of money when my grandma died, and also been a trust-fund baby. I'll admit I got a little carried away when I first got access to all that money. And… there may or may not be a boat in the boat-house down on the water."

Mila laughed, shaking her head. "I guess every friend has their secrets, huh?"

"Yeah, you're one to talk Miss Super Spy!" The two shared a laugh as Candy took one of the grocery bags from Mila's arms and started toward the open archway to the left. "Kitchen is through here. Dining room is at the back of the house with an exit onto the sunroom. Living room is to the right, and stairs through there." Setting the bags down on the gray marble countertops, Candy started to put things away while Mila unloaded the bags. "Master bedroom is up the stairs and to the right, full bathroom attached. Second and third bedrooms are to the left with a bathroom conjoining them. You guys can sleep wherever."

Bucky lugged his duffle bag through the kitchen and into the dining room, counting the number of windows and doors and making mental notes of how the furniture was situated. "Any security cameras, alarms, etcetera?"

Pausing as she settled a few bottles of wine in the wine-fridge below the center island, Candy raised a brow in surprise. "Uh, yeah, actually. I haven't used any of the security features in a while, but there's a computer room at the front of the house which has the screens and connections and whatnot. Technology isn't really my cup of tea."

He rounded the corner back into the kitchen. "Anyone else have a key to this place?"

Mila couldn't help but laugh at the look that spread across Candy's face as she shook her head and put the last of the groceries away. "No… Nobody else knows about it. We are completely secluded from all of mankind out here."

"Good." At that, he headed upstairs to the second spare room to drop his things off and dig out the folders that he'd stolen from the Shield office. He sat down onto the bed and sighed before opening the first folder.

"Well," Candy started as she pulled a bottle of coffee creamer from the fridge, "he certainly is a strange one."

Mila rolled her eyes and chuckled as she finished pouring their coffee across the counter "Can you blame him? I'd be a bit strange if some secret organization kidnapped me and turned me into some super sold-" She stopped mid-sentence, the two of them locking eyes before Mila's cheeks turned pink. "Oh, wait." She watched as Candy poured some of the creamer into the mugs before placing the jug back in the fridge. It was still surreal for her: the entire situation.

Candy lead the way out onto the back sunporch, plopping down into one of the lounge chairs and clutching the heated cup in both of her hands. "Hey. Technically you were already a super-soldier _before_ the secret organization kidnapped you –or at least that's what it sounded like. So you're excused from being a weirdo."

"Thank you so much, Candy. I knew I could count on you to validate my weirdness and still accept me even after you find out I was apparently an assassin in my past life. Lives. And that I'm over one-hundred years old- _how in the actual fuck is any of this even possible_?!" She took a deep breath, exhaling heavily as she pulled her knees up to her chest and gently blew the steam away from her coffee mug.

"Cheer up, kid." Candy smiled gently. "That weirdo upstairs is going to figure things out and in the mean time you just sit back and enjoy April sunsets over Lake Ontario. We'll even do something special for your birthday next week."

"Please, let's just forget about it and pretend like it's not happening? Lord knows I've had plenty of birthdays, I do not need another reason to hate myself right now. I'm seriously so old I practically could have come over with Columbus."

"First of all," Candy wagged a finger at her friend, "Columbus sailed here over four hundred years ago: you're barely a blip in time compared to that. Secondly, as your best friend I cannot allow you to pass up your birthday without at least your favorite meal and a couple of bottles of wine. Lastly, if you ever say you hate yourself again, I will personally slowly torture you with some of Bucky's 'toys' upstairs while reciting to you every reason that you're amazing."

Mila feigned surprise and threw her friend a grin. "Are we sure _you're_ not secretly some super-soldier? I'm just saying I think you could get the bad guys to confess pretty quickly. Just give them your evil eye."

Candy grinned as she drew her coffee mug close to her lips. "Works every time!"

It was closer to one in the morning when Mila finally gave up on attempting to sleep. She crept quietly down the stairs and padded into the kitchen, surprised to see a lamp on in the sunroom and Bucky's silhouette perfectly outlined as he flipped through a few papers sprawled out in front of him on the lounge chair.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" Mila stopped just in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as Bucky glanced over his shoulder at her.

"You either, I presume?"

She shook her head, stepping out onto the porch and peering over his shoulder. "What're you reading?"

"Hydra files." He flashed the ones in his flesh hand at her before running his metal hand through his hair. "Turns out that one hundred years of reading can't be done overnight." Bucky gestured to the chair to his left, the small coffee table between them housing a nearly empty glass of wine.

"Didn't take you for a wine drinker," she chuckled as she sat down.

The corner of Bucky's lip turned up into a smirk. "Well, when you're friend only stocks one kind of alcohol in the entire house, I don't have much of an option." His eyes moved back to the files in front of him. "And I grew up in the nineteen-twenties and thirties so I learned to take what I can get when it comes to alcohol. Once you've had back-room-barrel alcohol in a run-down speak easy surrounded by mobsters and corrupt cops, you'll drink pretty much anything."

Mila furrowed her brow, head tilting to the side in curiosity. "You grew up in the nineteen-twenties? How old are you?!"

He sat back, looking at her from the side as he pursed his lips. "I was born in Indiana in 1925. Joined the Army as fast as I could, almost died but Hydra found me. I'd say I owed them my life, but I personally feel like I've already paid my debt."

Her eyes were drawn to the metal arm which was left completely exposed by the short-sleeved white tee-shirt that Bucky was wearing.

"You can touch it."

Mila sat back, startled as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "What?"

Bucky lifted his left arm, "I said that you can touch it." He laid his arm across the small coffee table, the palm of his hand facing upwards as he watched Mila bite her lower lip.

"Really?" She waited for him to nod before reaching out with her right hand, gently caressing his forearm. "Oh, wow…" Her eyes bulged and she traced her fingers up to the bicep, then back down to his forearm, wrist, and finally his hand. "It's warm… I expected it to be cold, ya know?" Mila leaned forward as the tips of her fingers lightly brushed over the metal in his palm, pausing when she saw Bucky scrunch his nose. "What's wrong?"

"That tickles a little."

"Wait," she used her free hand to point down at their conjoined hands, "you can _feel that_? As in, you have, like, nerves or something?"

He wasn't entirely sure how to answer her. "Honestly, even I'm not one-hundred percent sure how it works. But basically it's as if I have just a regular arm. Except it's made out of the same material as Captain America's shield. And I can punch through things with it. But otherwise it's totally normal."

Mila couldn't help but laugh as her eyes locked back down on the arm, using her free hand to lift the metal arm so she could inspect it more closely.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised by how easily Mila took to his 'imperfections.' It wasn't every day that someone showed up who not only didn't know about the Winter Soldier, but who also didn't get freaked out by his obvious flaw. She raised his hand into the air and Bucky's fingers gently wrapped around Mila's hand as he took the opportunity to admire her features. He was caught up in the pink flushing of her cheeks and the gold-speckled blues of her eyes when he realized she had asked him another question.

"What?"

Mila furrowed her brow slightly as she repeated her question. "If you can feel things, doesn't it hurt when you, like, punch through walls, or stop bullets, or whatever else you do in a fight?"

"Oh," Bucky chuckled, "no. Actually, Steve's friend Tony is a super-genius and he did some sort of update or something. They wanted me to feel more human or something. I can feel everyday things, but once the force of an item reaches a certain point I can't feel anything. Perks of knowing Steve: I get access to all of his fancy friends and the benefits that come with them." He watched her as she continued to admire his arm, noting that she was still holding his hand gently as she ran her other hand up the forearm and to his bicep, tracing the red star near his shoulder with her finger.

"I got you something." He cleared his throat, catching Mila off guard as he gently pulled his hand from hers and picking up some of the folders in front of him. "They're your files. At least the ones I could get my hands on." Extending them out to her, Bucky watched her eyes darken slightly, an internal struggle brewing in her mind as she slowly took them from him. "I'd start at the beginning if I were you."

"Did you… Did you read them?" Her left brow lifted in curiosity as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

Bucky shifted, shrugging lightly. "I skimmed them."

Mila took a deep breath as she laid the folders to rest in her lap, suddenly nauseated at the thought of reading about herself. Up until two days ago she had thought that she was a completely normal woman who was nothing special and just trying to make ends meet. "How did you deal with it?" Her eyes shifted as she looked up at Bucky, confusion written across his features.

"What do you mean?"

"When you read your files… How did you deal with finding out that your whole life was a lie?"

Shaking his head, Bucky ran a hand nervous hand through his hair. "I-I didn't have to read my files. I remember everything." He watched as her eyes widened, and he realized he was going to have to explain. "Hydra… They turned me into a killing machine but they never took away my ability to remember it all. They needed me to do something and they used a series of code-words to 'switch on' the Winter Soldier. I knew what was happening but I just never had the ability to stop it. The real Bucky was always there, unfortunately he just wasn't strong enough to stop the Winter Soldier."

Mila's head dropped as she thought about everything that Bucky must have gone through. "How do you sleep at night?"

"Normally I don't. It's rare, but when I do I have pretty terrible dreams and re-live the moments. Steve always tells me that it wasn't really me and I can't hold myself accountable for what Hydra made me do. He means well, but he doesn't have to live with the memories that I do." He could tell that didn't make her feel any better, but Bucky was too out of touch when it came to women. He didn't remember how to comfort people no matter how much he wanted to. He cleared his throat again. "I used to wish that I didn't remember any of it, but honestly knowing what I did just drives me to want to be better now. All of those people just remind me why I need to keep fighting."

She nodded slowly, forcing a meek smile as she pulled the files to her chest and stood. "Thanks Bucky."

He nodded as she moved around him and back inside. Bucky exhaled swiftly, the fingers of his flesh hand brushing across the top of the only file folder that remained in front of him. He knew what was inside because he'd lived through it, and he didn't think she needed to see what was inside. Not yet, at least. Mila was clearly already feeling guilty enough and Bucky just couldn't willingly make her feel any worse.

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Next chapter up soon!


	8. Chapter 8

April2016 : Thank you for the review! So sorry I didn't acknowledge it sooner! Hope you enjoy the next one!

KittyBear98 : Have you never seen The Goonies?! It's a movie from 1985 and it is AMAZING! You have to watch it to understand the One-Eyed-Willy reference.

abstract0118 : Thank you so much!

 ** _Disclaimer: Story is rated M for language, gore, violence and abuse, and sexual situations._**

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Mila paced back and forth as she chewed on her thumbnail, constantly glancing down at the folders spread out on the end of her bed. Each one had a tab with a different range of years on it, some of them more faded than the others. Her eyes shifted to the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking louder and louder. ' _2:37_ ' she thought to herself. She'd been putting it off for about half an hour at that point. With a heavy sigh she grabbed the oldest dated folder. The years 1912-1934 were plastered in thick, crackling black ink on the tab.

Hand trembling, Mila flipped the folder open. The first item sitting on top was a Russian birth certificate and faded, yellowed pictures paper-clipped to it. Although the birth certificate was in Russian, Mila could read it like it was her first language.

 _Milandra Varya Ivanov_

 _Weight: 3.8 Kilograms_

 _Length: 45.7 cm_

 _Eyes: Blue_

 _Hair: Blonde_

 _Father: Unknown_

 _Mother: Katya Erina Ivanov_

Her chest tightened as she unclipped the photos from the birth certificate and slowly flipped them over to look at them. The first was a picture of a woman holding a baby, clearly right after the birth. Mila heard a gentle cooing at the back of her mind, a woman's soft voice. Her _mother's_ voice.

' _My love… My perfect girl…'_ Her forehead tingled as if someone had just run their thumb across it, Mila wiping over the area before she pulled that photo away to reveal the one underneath. It was the same woman, smiling widely with a slightly older baby, the two of them in an old rope swing hanging from a willow tree. She heard the soft sound of giggles reverberating in the room, and could feel the cool air stinging her cheeks as the swing moved forward and backward.

The next picture was of Katya in full uniform, features void of a smile as she stood with her hands folded behind her back. There were a handful of men in similar uniforms standing on either side of her. No child in that photo.

The next was similar, but at the center of it all was a young teen girl. Her uniform was similar to Katya's just with less metals. Her face was bright, eyes gleaming with a hope absent from her mother's. Mila paused, visions of learning how to fight flashing behind her eyes. It was a private training ground with full-grown men swarming around her from every angle. At the edge of the ground was a tall stand where her mother and their general stood, observing.

Mila could feel the hits from the men, taste the dust in her lungs as she rolled out of the way to barely avoid being tazered. Closing her eyes and immersing herself completely in the memory, Mila could feel the energy coursing through her as she easily maneuvered around the men and took them out one by one. Her body twisted in ways foreign to Mila, her hands easily countering the blows thrown by the men around her. The dust settled and she stood, dark eyes landing on the general beside her mother, a sickening grin twisted on his lips while her mother's eyes fell to the ground.

Her chest pounding, Mila opened her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her fingers worked faster as she picked through the photos, each one showing her face growing more mature and the number of metals on the chest of her uniform increasing. The final photo was her standing with all of the men, her uniform blackened and the metals gone. Her jaw was set, eyes void of emotion. The general was beside her, standing proudly next to his favorite soldier. Her mother was absent from the photo, and Mila suddenly felt the sickening tug of pain in her chest as she recalled the day that her mother died.

Lightening flashed, thunder rumbling as hard, cold drops of rain poured down around her. The ground beneath her feet was soft, mud slapping around her knee-high boots as she walked around the general and her eyes fell on the casket ahead of her. There were no tears shed, they'd made sure that she showed no emotion. Her chest rumbled as thunder struck again, and the others turned and dispersed. Mila's gaze shifted to the general as he ordered her gruffly to return to base. His smile flashed through her mind and she felt the hatred building in her.

She didn't sleep much that night, for every time she closed her eyes Mila would relive the moments from her childhood. Her mother's voice had been so soft in the beginning, and the pride that she'd had for Mila as a child radiated from her every time her daughter had discovered a new ability or simply started to master the ones that she already knew of. But the General knew how to destroy their bond. He'd turned daughter against mother, and while it ate away at Katya, Milandra had gotten stronger. He used her anger to fuel her and turn her into the soldier that he wanted.

It was nearly six in the morning when Mila decided she'd had enough of the memories and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't think about who was just on the other side of the bathroom door. She could have stayed in the shower for days with the hot water rushing over her; Mila couldn't remember the last time that she'd been able to shower in peace and quiet. When she climbed out and wrapped the towel around her, the mirror was fogged up completely.

With her free hand, Mila cleared away a spot on the mirror and peered into the eyes looking back at her. There was an entirely different person standing there: a person who had willingly taken the lives of innocent people and helped to build a new type of soldier meant solely for destruction. Mila swiped the mirror again as she turned and headed back into her room. Once she was changed into a pair of yoga pants and a tank-top over her bra, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, brushing her hair along the way.

She had plenty of time to make some coffee and start breakfast, the house quiet while the other occupants remained in bed. As the sun slowly rose and began to peek in through the curtains over the windows, Mila sipped her coffee in between working on peeling and cutting potatoes. They were diced up and sizzling in a skillet on the stove, perfectly seasoned with her secret blend of spices, when the stairs creaked as someone descended from the second floor.

Just as she had taken another sip of her coffee Bucky entered from the dining room, smiling gently as he inhaled deeply.

"Whatever _that_ is, it smells amazing."

Mila rolled her eyes and turned to grab him a cup of coffee, unable to avoid the smile on her lips. " _That_ is just a skillet full of potatoes. Nothing special. Yet." She turned to face him and extended his coffee, watching his eyes pour over the potatoes and the mixture of spices speckled across them.

"What did you put on them?"

"Oh, no, sorry. I can't tell you that. It's top secret information that you just don't have the right security clearance for." She leaned against the counter and raised her cup towards her lips, both hands wrapped securely around the warm porcelain.

Bucky's jaw went slack as he tried to wrap his mind around what she had just said. "Did you… Just make a joke?"

Nodding, she pursed her lips and chuckled. "Yeah. I'm surprised you had to think about that one."

The corner of his mouth turned up as he leaned back against the island, looking down at the cup in his hand. "So, you're taking the transition well." His gaze moved up to her and he caught her shrug as she squirmed for a moment.

"I mean, my entire life has been one huge lie, I had no idea that I was a serial killer, I'm on the run with a guy I barely know whose life I also happen to have destroyed… So yeah," she nodded, "I'd say I'm transitioning pretty damn well."

There was a long moment of silence in which Bucky stared down at the cup in his hand. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to say something when he heard the lock on the front door turning. His eyes flitted towards the front of the house, muscles tensing as he slowly put his coffee down and pushed away from the counter.

Mila furrowed her brow in confusion and followed Bucky's blue-gray eyes. She took a small step forward, their bodies close as she tried to see what he was looking at.

The door slowly creaked open, and in an instant Bucky had pulled Mila behind him with his flesh hand, turning his body so he was facing towards the front of the house as he stared into the dimly lit dining room. His metal hand tightened into a fist around the handle of a knife that Mila had used to cut potatoes, sliding the blade off of the counter silently.

"You won't need that, Buck." Steve Rogers quietly stepped out of the shadows, blue eyes glinting from a small stream of sunlight peering in from the back of the house.

Bucky released the breath he was holding, setting the knife back down harshly. "Let me guess: One-Eyed-Willy called you, didn't he?"

Steve chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and dining room. "Nat, actually. She was worried." He gestured past Bucky. "You know I'm not going to hurt her, you don't have to guard her like that."

Mila tugged at the hem of her tank top as Bucky moved to the side, her eyes falling on the kindly looking man across the room.

"Ma'am." He gave her a nod before addressing his old friend. "Look, as far as Shield is concerned, I'm still in Wakanda. They don't know I'm here, and I don't plan on telling them. But, Bucky… You had to have known that they weren't going to be happy about you running off like that."

"You know I can't let them have her. I'm going to do this _my way_ , Steve. She's scared and I don't blame her. Nat has her ways which we all know are beyond useful in the field… But not in this case. I understand what Mila has been through. I can help her."

Steve shifted, arms crossed over his chest as he looked over the short woman, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "At least keep in touch with Nat-"

"No." Bucky pointed an accusatory finger at Steve. "Don't ask me to do that. You know I don't trust her any more than she trusts me."

"Look," he slipped a small black flip-phone from his pocket and stepped into the kitchen, extending it towards Bucky, "just check in with her once every day or two. That's all I'm asking. She's agreed to give you some space to work this out if you just promise to keep her in the loop."

"What about One-Eyed-Willy?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You know he hates that."

Bucky shrugged, unable to stop himself from smirking as he roughly snatched the phone from his friend's hand.

"She'll handle Fury _if_ you check in with her."

Mila was growing tired of the two men conversing as if she wasn't even there. "Um, hi, still here." The two looked down at her, and she twisted some of her hair around her fingers nervously. "I thought you said that they didn't know you were here?"

Bucky scoffed and leaned over Mila, grabbing his coffee and taking a long sip of it. "Nat and Fury aren't stupid, they knew that he was going to find me."

"O…kay…" She cocked her head to the side. " _How_ _did_ you find us?"

"Simple: I looked into your associates, found out who you spent the most time with, and then went through their records. This time around your only friend was Candice, and when I looked up her records I saw she owned two properties. You guys weren't at her daily house, so you had to be here."

"Ah," Mila nodded, "that easy, huh?"

Steve chuckled. "I may or may not have accidentally misplaced that file to buy you some extra time. But eventually they're going to want to know where you all are."

Tossing her head back, Mila ran her hands through her hair and moved around Bucky towards the fridge, grabbing the bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream and proceeding to pour some into her coffee.

Bucky glanced over at his long-time friend, raising a brow. "You do realize it isn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet?"

Mila laughed as she stirred her coffee with her left hand, using her right hand to mix the potatoes sizzling in the skillet on the stove. "You do realize that I cannot physically die, right? I think if I survived both of the World Wars, a slew of assassination attempts, and your red-headed friend then my liver can handle a little alcohol in the morning."

"I think we should introduce her to Tony." Steve couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Bucky's eyes bulge.

"No way." Bucky shook his head fervently. "I don't think Stark could handle her."

Mila glared over her shoulder at Bucky just before hearing footsteps padding down the stairs. She turned, coffee in hand, to welcome Candy into the conversation, but the black-haired woman was stopping mid step, jaw agape as her green eyes scanned the figure of their new guest.

"Holy fuck."

Mila laughed as Steve turned, straightening himself out and dipping his head towards Candy.

"Ma'am."

Candy's eyes bulged, her feet glued to the floor. "Holy fuck."

Bucky shook his head in amusement, "yeah, he doesn't really like cussing."

"Shut the front door." Her tone was the same as before, hands gesturing towards Steve.

Steve glanced past the woman's shoulder, confusion written on his features. "I could have sworn I closed it behind myself."

Shaking her head, Candy quickly moved to stand beside the man, eyes locked on him as she waved her hands up and down, gesturing towards his form. "You're Captain-freaking-America. Why are you in my kitchen?" Her gaze moved to Mila. "Why is he in my kitchen? Why is Captain-Fucking-America in my kitchen?!"

Bucky moved around the island, drawing his coffee cup to his lips as he smirked at Steve. "You think she's a fan?"

Steve shrugged, smiling at the woman kindly. He was used to people sort of freaking out when they met him, but he still found it endearing.

Mila fought back her laughter, rolling her eyes at her friend. "Candy, this is Steve, Bucky's friend."

"Yeah, no shit." Candy moved further into the kitchen. "He's Captain America. Did you know that?" The fleeting glance towards Bucky insinuated that Mila hadn't known that fact. "He's, like, the super-hero of all super-heros."

"I wouldn't call him _super._ " Buckle waggled his eyebrows at Steve. "I mean, I've beaten him in a fight, so…"

Candy shushed the dark-haired man before gesturing towards the kitchen. "Do you want to sit down? You can sit down."

Steve shook his head, politely declining. "No, but thank you. I should be getting back to work."

"What? You aren't going to at least stay for breakfast? She's making Scarborough Potatoes, it's a top-secret recipe that Mila created herself. Best breakfast you'll ever have. Trust me."

Rolling her eyes, Mila pointed the wooden spatula in her hand towards Candy. "I created it, but _she_ perfected it." Her friend waved her off, but Mila continued. "Honestly, there's plenty here for us all, including Captain America."

"Okay." Steve nodded and nonchalantly moved into the kitchen. "But, only if you ladies call me Steve."

Candy squealed in excitement, moving towards the cabinets as Steve took a seat at the island next to Bucky.

"Coffee? Tea? Iced tea?"

"Coffee, thank you."

Mila laughed again, her back to the guys as she stirred the potatoes and playfully elbowed Candy in the side.

It was an odd sensation for Mila, sitting at the breakfast room table with Candy, Bucky, and Steve. The four of them were eating and having completely normal conversation –if you count Candy interrogating Steve about his adventures with the other Avengers as normal– without skipping a beat. It was almost surreal for her to be sitting with them as if her entire life hadn't just been turned upside down. Their voices had been tuned out for a moment, the soft droning of a woman's voice echoing at the back of Mila's mind. It wasn't until she looked up across the table and her gaze met Bucky's that she snapped out of it.

Smiling meekly, Mila chuckled as Candy's laugh rang out from next to her.

"So, Mila," Steve started, "Bucky said he's going to start training with you soon."

Her blue eyes widened as she glanced between the two men. "What?"

Bucky nodded, silently cursing his friend for bringing it up before he could. He'd been planning on talking to Mila about it but Steve's arrival had thrown a wrench in his plans. "Uh, yeah! I figured if we did some combat training, we might be able to jar some of your memories."

"I can't fight." She said it flatly before she could even think about the statement. There was a long moment of silence as the realization dawned on Mila.

"I think it's a good idea." Steve could feel the tension in the room, and he smiled to try and ease it. "You undoubtedly have muscle-memory, so if Bucky helps you train a bit you'll be able to fight better than you think in no time."

Candy reached over and gave Mila's hand a reassuring squeeze. She didn't bother trying to say anything, because she knew there wasn't anything she could say to make Mila feel better.

Mila stared down at their hands for a moment, smile faltering. "What… What exactly do you think Shield is going to do with me?" She pulled her hand from Candy's and looked over at Bucky. "I mean, are they hoping you can turn me into some sort of super-soldier for them to use to their benefit?"

Bucky shook his head, but she interrupted him before he could try to reassure her.

Her gaze moved to Steve. "I don't know what your red-head friend and your boss are thinking, but I don't even know who I am. In case you all had forgotten: the life that I've been living was a complete lie, and I'm not okay with it. I did even get through half of a file about myself and I already can't stomach the things that I've done. I didn't choose to be this way, and if I hadn't just found out that I'm apparently immortal, I can't say I wouldn't go tie myself to a cement block and throw myself into that lake out there."

"Mila!" Candy didn't even look at the two men as she leaned towards her friend and grabbed her hand. "We'll figure this out. Together."

Steve nodded. "I know that you think I couldn't possibly understand because I chose to be who I am, but having powers doesn't necessarily make life easier. I heard once that 'with great power comes great responsibility.' We do what we can, and try to always do the right thing."

"We have to stand for what's right, even if the whole world is against us." Bucky leaned into the table, arms folded in front of him. "You know I'm not going to let _anyone_ use you. I want to do this for you to help you figure out who you are. We can worry about Shield later, for now my main focus is you."

Mila forced a smile before standing, brushing herself off and grabbing the plates from the table. "What _I can do_ right now is get this kitchen clean. So, if you'll excuse me…"

Candy hung her head, sighing and looking over at Bucky. "I've gotta get back to the city. Work will go up in flames without Mila _and_ myself. I'm going to go pack up my stuff and then take off."

Bucky nodded at her, his eyes fixed on Mila as she maneuvered around and started working on washing the dishes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to meet Steve's gaze. The two stood and made their way to the front of the house, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind them. Bucky moved to lean back against the banister, his blank gaze glued to some far-off place hidden in the grain of the porch floorboards.

Steve stood beside him, taking in the surrounding forestry. "You can't save everyone, I know that better than most."

"I've got to try, Steve. She needs someone who can understand her."

"So I'm correct in thinking that you haven't told her about her mom?" Steve looked over and caught the flare in Bucky's temple, his eyes still downcast. "She's going to find out sooner or later."

"She's starting from the beginning. She doesn't need to see that file yet." Bucky shifted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve nodded slowly, turning his gaze back on the scenery ahead of him. "Fury is going to want her on his team. It's inevitable. She's an asset and he's not going to want to lose her to Hydra, not again. Mila is pre-Shield. She and the work Hydra did goes back farther than we do. You can't let yourself get distracted." He earned a sideways glare from Bucky, but continued. "I saw the way you looked at her, that glint in your eye when she laughed… Bucky, you have to be careful. I won't be surprised if she-"

"Don't." Bucky felt the anger rising in his gut as he side-eyed his friend. He knew where Steve was going with this. "She wasn't born evil, they manipulated her and you know it. You've seen what they're capable of and there isn't a doubt in my mind that she didn't choose that life willingly. They kept erasing her mind for a reason. I'm going to figure it out I just need time."

There was an unspoken favor being asked by the Winter Soldier, and Captain America understood exactly what was needed.

"I'll talk to Fury, keep Nat updated a couple times a week. If you play nice she might let you use some of Shield's resources. I'll be back in a few weeks once I finish up in Wakanda."

Bucky nodded, standing and pulling Steve into a hug. "Thank you brother."

The two parted, Steve smiling as Candy stepped through the front door with her luggage bag.

Her eyes moved between the two suspiciously, her brow furrowing. "You two are scheming."

Steve shook his head and held his hand out. "Can I take your bag for you?"

She eyed him before holding the bag out to him. "Bucky…" she turned towards the other man as Steve moved off the porch and towards her Jeep. "That woman in there is my best friend. I would kill for her. I would die for her." She moved forward, stepping as close to him as she could and cornering him against the banister while her voice dropped. "You will take care of her, and so help me God if anything happens to her while she's with you… The entire Avengers team won't be able to protect you. Do I make myself clear?"

Bucky nodded, doing everything he could not to flinch. He might be super-human, but he knew that Candy meant every word. "Yes ma'am."

She turned and headed towards her Jeep. "I'll be back Friday morning."

He stayed outside just long enough to watch the two leave, heading back inside and making sure to lock the door after himself. Mila was still in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and the table as Bucky entered the room. Steve's words reverberated in his mind as he watched her moving about with a tired energy. The whole situation was wearing on her, and he needed to find a way to help her. Fast.

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